Unlucky Thirteen
by PhoenixWormwood137
Summary: The Doctor's thirteenth incarnation is nearing his end, and he considers this a good riddance. He looks young, but he's tired of life. Will he find a reason to live again? You bet he will. The real question is, "Does it come too late?". Oneshot.


**I had a dream a few mornings ago… basically like this. I actually can't separate dream and fanfiction, now, because I began jotting down the story almost as soon as I woke up. It's sort of dark, in my opinion, dark and angsty, but … oh well…**

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><p>Rose stands with her back pressed against the cold wall, listening to him talk. He scares her.<p>

It has been a long time since she's fought aliens with anyone. It felt good to be running from monsters again, while it lasted. Throw in the spunky, handsome man beside her, and she was almost imagining she was with the Doctor again. An assassination attempt to stop, and someone to flash her cheeky smiles in between the awful amount of running they were doing? Brilliant. Like heaven.

They had just bumped into each other, her and him. Turns out they both suspected the Prime Minister was in danger, and they had both seen strange goings-on in the dark corners of the Space Hotel. Before long, they were hiding from a pair of thugs together, each watching the other's back as if they were old pals. They were talking and smiling and holding hands while they ran, before.

But now is the time to confront the enemy. The man is standing there, and seeing him whip the black-shrouded monsters with his pure, terrifying words makes her miss the Doctor, who was gentler and kinder and always gave second chances.

This man, when it comes down to it, is cold and cruel. Doing the right thing with unnecessary vengeance and vehemence.

"You'll burn," he says, standing ramrod straight, hands behind his back, staring down at the alien plotters that he's caught in a trap. "You'll all burn and while you burn, listen to your own screams and compare them to the ones you once drew from helpless people."

One of the monsters raises a lethal-looking gun as the man turns away.

And then the explosion fires the world behind him, the orange blaze matching the man's hair exactly - same colour, same shape. He doesn't even look back as the cries start to ring out - the only deviation from his ruler-like posture is a slight jolt in his body as the explosion's shock hits him. But his face doesn't change.

He looks at her and holds out his hand, and she takes it hesitantly.

"How could you do that?" Rose falters.

"Do what?" He says, in a tone that tells her he knows exactly what she means and isn't sorry.

She doesn't say anything. Once they're down the hallway, once they've turned a corner, once they're away, he speaks. "Not enough like your husband? Not enough mercy?"

"How did you know about him?" She says.

"Where is he?" He says, instead of replying.

"My husband died," Rose says. "That's why I came here. Look for adventure, get away from the pain, yeah?"

"You're twenty-first century," he says. "Have you got a time machine?"

She nods.

"Good. How close is she?"

"What?"

"How close is your time machine?"

"Why?"

"Please, just answer."

He scares her, she just met him, but at the same time, she really can't help trusting him. "Ground floor," she says.

"Oh."

"Why?"

"I'd love to see her. I had a time machine but I lost her. Now I travel with vortex manipulator. Makes me sick every time. I hate it."

"You hate a lot of things, don't you?" She says.

"Lots," he agrees, steel in his voice.

"Who are you?" she asks.

"I really am no one anymore. I haven't got a name."

"What do you mean?"

"I lost my name in a war," he says. "Been going by stupid fake titles for a long time now. Long time. So long that sometimes I just want to die already."

He's scaring her again. His eyes are so intense. They're almost glowing in his face, which is unnaturally pale. The white skin is a startling contrast to his bright, wild red hair.

"What about life? Aren't there some things worth living for?"

"I didn't think so, for a while. I think I just found one, though. That's irony for you."

"What do you mean, you found one? And irony? What are you talking about?"

"I found something worth living for, Rose Tyler. Rose… Tyler. Rose, my Rose."

She takes a step away from him with a hasty, "Look, mate -" and then she catches sight of his back and claps her hands over her mouth.

"Oh my - you're - you've -"

"Stupid bullet," he comments, nonchalant but edgy, the same tone he's said most everything else in. Level. No pain to betray that he's been shot and his shirt is soaking red, dripping onto the floor behind him. "So, what exactly happened to your husband?" he asks, as if discussing it over coffee.

"Our time machine crashed," she says, in shock. "He died, you're dying, sit down or something! I can help!"

"No you can't," he says. Let's go downstairs, I want to see that time machine of yours. Lucky, your husband. Got to die in a TARDIS. I always thought I would, too, but there you go. I doubt I'll see one again."

He staggers, she grabs him and supports him as he struggles to walk. In her anxiety, she doesn't notice his use of the name "TARDIS". He shouldn't know, but she doesn't pay attention. "I was asking," he says, and now he's talking with a bit more difficulty, "About your husband because I was wondering if you were free, Rose. Free to fall in love again."

"Please don't," Rose says.

"What, start a relationship when you know I'm going to have to leave? It's only death, sweetheart. Tell me you love me."

Rose figures his brain is being affected by the pain, and shushes him. "You'll be all right," she says.

"I won't, though," he says, and falls to his knees. Leans his back against a wall, and immediately blood soaks into the carpet around him.

"I want to tell you a secret," he says. "Come here."

He beckons her, and she leans in. He puts his lips near her ear.

"I'm the Doctor," he whispers, and his eyes, already glazing over, watch as all the colour vanishes from Rose's face, as her mouth falls open, as she starts to cry and laugh.

He raises his hand to her cheek, obviously with considerable effort. His fingers leave bloody streaks on her skin.

"Can't you regenerate?" she sniffs.

His arm drops. "No. Thirteenth life. Last one."

"What?" she's really crying, now.

"Oh, no," he says. "Please don't cry. Whenever I thought there was nothing left living for in the universe, I thought of happy people like you, Rose. People who lived and smiled. Don't cry and burst my bubble, now."

"Doctor, please..."

"Something I've always wanted to try," he says, then leans forward and puts his mouth on her own. Not much of a kiss, by Hollywood standards, but it's their first and more precious than all the movie stars' on-screen making out.

He uses up all his remaining strength in that first contact, she can tell, because after some long moments of a weak passion that must be all he can possibly muster, he slips and his lips are barely clinging onto her own, grasping for a new hold every few seconds.

His eyes are rolling back into his skull with the effort of staying alive. She can feel his pulse against her fingers, which are laid soft against his neck, and she feels the abrupt drop-off in the rhythm of his blood - one heart has failed. He starts to cough and falls away from her, back against the wall once more. She can see red mixed with the spit the coughing has brought.

Rose lays her lips on his cheek. "I love you. Please, don't die. I love you. Stay for me. Stay for everyone. The world needs you."

"I'm sorry," he says, almost choking on the words.

He forces his eyes open and locks onto her gaze. "Stay safe."

There - almost a smile.

But not quite.

Never quite.

She kisses him again as he stiffens, closes his eyes, pulls him forward and holds him as she cries. She doesn't know how she'll let go.

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><p><strong>There you have it. <strong>**I kept it short - at one point, I had plans for a whole chapter fic, showing how Rose lost Ten Too and developing Thirteen's character as much as possible, but I don't have inspiration enough. I was wondering, though, if anyone wanted to hear more about Thirteen? Not sure if I'll ever get around to writing any more about him, but I have a few paragraphs written about his character and personality - he became so 3D to me - and they're on my profile, if you like. Thanks *so* much for reading, and I'd really, really, REALLY love it if you left me a review. Thank you again!**


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